


pasture

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Animal Mindset, Animalistic Behavior, Blanket Permission, Breeding, Breeding Kink, Corsetry, Creampie, Cunnilingus, Equestrian, Established Relationship, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, F/M, Feral Behavior, Hand Jobs, Leather, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Molly Graham/Will Graham, Muzzles, Pony Abigail Hobbs, Pony Play, Pony Will Graham, primal play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: It is so lovely to see Will playing, knowing he's having fun, nothing more complicated in his head than the warm air, the sweet grass, and the presence of his friends.Hannibal's eyes slide over to the mares. "What are they all looking at, I wonder?"





	pasture

Hannibal greets Margot and Alana with a smile, seeing them standing at the entrance to the stables, dressed finely in long summer dresses for the warm weather. Margot is carrying an umbrella in one hand, shielding them from the sun, both women holding tall glasses of pale pink, fizzy liquid, brimming with cherries and lime.

"Hannibal!" Margot calls, and smiles at him as he and Alana embrace with a one-armed hug, and he gives both women a kiss on their cheeks. "We were wondering if you'd join us today."

"I wouldn't have missed your season opening for the world," Hannibal replies warmly. From behind Margot and Alana, a white-clad waiter appears holding more of that fizzy drink, and Hannibal takes a glass with a smile, sipping at it. It's sweet with maraschino cherries, faintly lemony in the aftertaste, and bubbles pleasantly on his tongue. "Nor a chance to be in the company of such beautiful friends."

"Hah! Ever the silver-tongue," Margot says, tongue making her cheek bulge as she grins. "Come, come, let's go see how your boy is doing."

Hannibal nods, following the women into the stables. It is kept meticulously clean, not a stray speck of dust or piece of straw in sight, and Margot folds her umbrella and sets it on its tip, brushing her hair back from her neck as she leads the way, Alana following beside Hannibal.

"Are we to expect the usual crowd?" he asks her, as she sips at her sweet lemonade. She looks up at him beneath long, black lashes, and smiles wide, red lips splitting to show her teeth.

"You're the last to arrive," she replies. "The Crawfords are the only ones not here, but they sent word that they would be delayed, so we might expect them soon."

Hannibal nods, and smiles when he hears a soft sound from the farthest stall. When the weather is warm, Margot and Alana keep the stables open, and a thick shaft of light slips in between the open doors, illuminating the stall as Hannibal approaches.

He steps up to the stall door, peering inside, sees a soft pallet of blankets in the corner, a trough of water, bright and clear. Within the stall, Will. Will turns, perking up when he sees who it is, and smiles widely, walking over to the stall door and putting his cheek in Hannibal's offered hand.

"Hello, darling," he murmurs, and pets through Will's wild hair, huffing when it seems that he has, once again, mussed it up beyond the careful hairstyle Hannibal spent so long combing it into when he was last here. Will detests braids, and feathers, and anything in his hair that is unnatural, and though he might tolerate it for the sake of a show, as soon as he's in his stall he tends to roll around and paw at his soft hair until all of it has been removed.

Will hums, blows out a heavy breath, and lips at Hannibal's thumb. "You're in a good mood today," Hannibal notes lightly, and Will's eyes shine, glazed like he's drunk, though Hannibal knows Margot and Alana feed all their animals only fresh food and water.

Will huffs again, nuzzles Hannibal's wrist, and rears up. His fingers are bound together, covered with thin, black leather gloves so that he can't separate them like people can, his thumbs tucked tight to his palms so he can't grab.

He rests his hooves on the edge of the stall door, whines weakly when Hannibal pets through his hair.

"We'll leave you alone," Alana says with a kind smile, and Will turns his head, smiles at her and stretches out his neck to receive another pet from her. "Your tack is where you left it, Hannibal. Join us when you're ready."

Hannibal smiles, and watches them leave, before he goes to the little closet on the outside of Will's stall, kneels down and opens it, gathering Will's gear. Will snorts, stepping back as Hannibal opens the stall and sets everything down inside on a little bench.

Will smiles at him, sweet as ever – he has a wonderful disposition and temperament, especially for a stallion. Hannibal returns his smile, and lets himself linger a moment, simply admiring Will – he has a bruise on his shoulder from undoubtedly getting a little rough with one of his fellow ponies, but otherwise he is clean and unblemished, and stands proudly, subtly preening under Hannibal's attention.

Hannibal sighs happily, and takes, first, Will's tail. It's long, the same color as his hair, and falls in soft waves, attached to a belt that is made to sit on his hips. He runs the leather around his boy, pulling the halves to each other at the back, threads the buckle through the loop and tightens with a sharp tug.

Will's stomach sinks in, his chin lifts, and his fingers curl at his sides. He breathes out, turns his head, lifts his heel as he settles his weight on one leg.

Hannibal smiles, and tests the give and tightness, threading three fingers between Will's soft skin and the belt to make sure it's not too tight – will not rise too high, nor swoop too low. Two other strips of black leather wrap around the tops of each of Will's thighs, and straps connect the belt to them, to keep everything in place.

Will's lashes go low, his tongue snaking out to wet his lips as Hannibal admires him, his bright eyes darkening with anticipation when Hannibal tucks his fingers beneath Will's chin, tilts his head. Will mimics him, listing right when Hannibal tilts left. Some horse owners have such a connection with their animals that they react to each other without verbal prompting, and Will has always been remarkably in tune with Hannibal, whether he's a pony or a man.

Hannibal also owns a chest harness for Will, but he doesn't put it on today. He likes the way Will's shoulders flex, openly, blades jutting from his back as he stretches and shifts his weight to his other foot. And the day is sunny; he doesn't want Will's skin to tan unevenly. Thin, black leather shoes encase his feet, like the gloves on his hands, protecting his soles from the ground. Others, Hannibal knows, like to put their horses in lifted shoes, but Will's legs and haunches are already lovely enough without the heel to make them tense.

Besides, Hannibal likes being taller, even if it's only by an inch.

He hums to himself in thought, and takes Will's halter, next. It's made from the same soft, buttery black leather, and Will tosses his head when he sees it, letting out a soft rumble of displeasure, but doesn't fight as Hannibal wraps the muzzle piece around his cheeks. It's open at the front, so Will can eat and bite if he has to, and uses the bridge of his nose to keep upright, the wide straps running down, over his flushing cheekbones, to melt into a wide collar that sits snugly, high on his neck. A single strap threads between his eyes, over the top of his head, and joins the rest at the back of the collar. The halter highlights the sharpness of his jaw, draws attention to his eyes and lips, and makes sure that there is nothing stopping Hannibal or another horse owner from petting through his soft, wild hair.

At that thought, he eyes Will's mane, and tuts. "One day you won't ruin all my hard work," he says, but he won't deny that Will's curls are lovely, and must be touched.

Will smiles at him, unrepentant, and lifts his chin. His weight shifts again, suddenly enough that his tail brushes along his thighs and behind his knees, a soft swish that makes his eyes darken further, the light in them swallowed by the glaze of his simple pleasure, at being Hannibal's to dress and groom and release as he likes.

"Yes, you're very handsome," Hannibal says, and Will huffs and grins at him, ducks his head and nuzzles Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal cannot resist putting a hand in Will's hair, petting it from his face, then down to his collar, making sure it, like his belt, is not too tight. "How does it feel?"

Will's lashes flutter, and he butts his forelegs against Hannibal's stomach. No protest comes, no kicks or bites to show his discomfort. Hannibal smiles, and releases Will, taking out the final piece – a thin black lead rope, that he clips to the ring at the front of Will's collar.

Will shakes his hair out sharply, ruining, once again, what little grooming Hannibal managed to do, and Hannibal rolls his eyes, takes his drink which has been left on the stall wall, and leads Will out. Will follows docilely, his feet silent on the concrete floor, his head low as Hannibal leads him through the stable doors, towards the paddock.

The Verger estate is vast, and stretches over many acres, but Margot, Alana, and their guests keep their ponies in a single small field for opening season. Hannibal smiles and nods at some familiar faces as he leads Will out, towards the white gate that separates the people from the horses.

He unclips Will's lead once they're both inside, and Will tosses his head, nostrils flaring as he looks out towards the other ponies. Hannibal spies Beverly's geldings, Jimmy and Brian, engaged in a game of keep away with a bright red ball. They have braids in their hair, and their tails match their manes, dressed in similar belts like Will's – only, they also have a wide strap that clothes their cocks, rendering them geldings instead of stallions. They cannot mount a mare, wearing those.

Mister Dolarhyde's colt, Randall, is standing nearby, scratching his shoulders against one of the fence posts. Unlike Will, and Jimmy and Brian, Randall is encased in a black mesh shirt, covering his chest and his stomach, as well as a black shoulder piece that shields his neck and back from anyone that might try to bite or hurt him. He has those raised hooves, black shoes that run up to his thighs, straps connecting the shirt to the tops of them, and black mesh underwear covering his cock and haunches.

There is also, Hannibal is surprised to note, a gathering of mares on the other side of the paddock. They appear all circled around something that Hannibal cannot see, all of them garishly decorated with pink shoes, diamond-studded corsets and long braids in their manes, their tails similarly decorated with jewels and pieces of leather, to keep their shape raised high in inviting arches.

Will breathes out, rumbling curiously, and Hannibal smiles at him.

"Have fun, darling," he says, and steps back through the gate, and Will tosses his head, calls out to Jimmy and Brian to gain their attention. The geldings let out soft, welcoming whinnies, and Will runs over to them, grinning as Brian immediately butts their shoulders together, their heads tilted to each other's necks as they refamiliarize themselves with their scents.

Hannibal sips at his drink, resting his forearms on the white wooden fence.

"Doctor Lecter!"

He smiles, and turns to see Beverly approaching him, dressed in a white pantsuit and black stilettoes, her hair pulled away from her face in a high bun. She wears a lot of black, white, and grey, to match her horses. "Miss Katz," he greets warmly, and kisses her on the cheek. "Wonderful to see you."

"And you," she says, and grins at him, clinking their glasses together. "Lovely day."

"It is," Hannibal replies. He spies Alana and Margot greeting Jack and Bella Crawford, as they arrive. "Your horses are looking well."

"Yes," Beverly says fondly, smiling over at them. Will has joined in the game, batting and kicking at the ball between the three of them. Will laughs, loudly, as Jimmy tackles him to the ground, and the two ponies roll for a while before they stand, nudging their foreheads together, and resume. It is so lovely to see Will playing, knowing he's having fun, nothing more complicated in his head than the warm air, the sweet grass, and the presence of his friends.

Hannibal's eyes slide over to the mares. "What are they all looking at, I wonder?"

"Oh, you haven’t heard?" Beverly's brows rise sharply, and she grins. "The Vergers have a new filly. It's her debut!"

Hannibal nods, controlling his expression so he doesn't frown. They made no mention of it – had he known, he might have gelded Will before taking him out. Mares and fillies get nervous around stallions, rightly so, though Will has never been aggressive unless provoked.

One of the mares' attention is drawn by Will's laughter. Hannibal recognizes Molly – one of Bella's; she must have given Alana permission to release her before their arrival. It settles him somewhat, because Molly knows Will.

As he thinks it, Molly pulls away from the group, walking up and down the paddock and shifting a little closer to Will, Jimmy, and Brian each time. Through the gap she left in the semi-circle, Hannibal glimpses the filly Beverly mentioned.

She truly is a beautiful thing – her mane is black, lifted high from her neck in a series of ringlets that cascade down her neck and shoulders from the high loop on her head. Her skin is pale, almost glowing from lack of tan in the sunlight, her eyes wide and a bright, crystalline blue. She is still young, Hannibal thinks, no older than twenty in human years, wearing all-white to mark her as a newcomer. Hannibal knows Alana has an affinity for fillies, and this one is truly lovely to look at.

She's wearing no shoes, no gloves on her hands, but her wrists have thick, white cuffs around them, and they run up in pale netting to her shoulders, where they stop to keep her shoulders and neck bare, and merge into a white corset, that makes her breasts swell at the top and pulls in her waist. She's wearing nothing to cover herself otherwise, bare and open like a breeding mare. Her tail is kept up at her hips by a white belt, with black feathers falling from it to preserve her modesty somewhat, and her tail is long and similarly curled as her mane, brushing along the ground.

Hannibal's brows rise. "Forgive me," he says, "I thought you said she was a filly." But there is nothing covering her, from her feet to her hips. Any stallion might get it in his head to mount her, looking like that.

"She is," Beverly replies with a nod. "I know they knew you were coming, that Will would be here. I can't imagine why they didn't put her in chastity."

Hannibal's lips purse. Why indeed?

Of course, he knows Will would never even think of approaching a mare, known to him or not, unless he knew he would be received well.

Molly creeps closer, and lets out a sweet, high call. Will stops when he hears her, lifting his head, and snorts in reply, shoulders rolling when she smiles at him. She approaches slowly, as Jimmy and Brian back away to continue their game, and Will lowers his lashes, tilts his head to let her nuzzle and nip at the collar around his neck.

She puts her forelegs against his chest, tail swishing from side to side as she rubs against him, and Will's nostrils flare. He lets out a quiet, curious sound, and she takes one of his forelegs between her pink gloves, tugging him back towards the cluster of mares.

Will snorts, digging in his heels, and fights himself free, letting out a soft, warning noise. She rolls her eyes, and tries again, and Will relents the second time, but makes himself appear small as Molly leads him towards the other mares.

"Oh, Hannibal!" Hannibal blinks, dragging his gaze away, surprised to find Beverly's spot vacated, and Alana in her place. "There you are."

She puts a hand on his arm, and smiles toothily at him, nodding to the horses. "I see you've noticed Abigail."

Ah, so that is the filly's name. He nods. "She is lovely," he murmurs, and hears Alana's hum of pride. "But I wish you had told me – I would have covered Will, had I known."

"Oh, nonsense," Abigail says with a huff. "Will is the most well-behaved stallion I've ever met."

And that is true. Hannibal allows himself to smile, proud of that fact. Training Will was a long process, but he has always been sweet, and eager to please, regardless of who he is pleasing.

They watch in silence, as Molly leads him to the cluster of mares. There are four in total, not counting Abigail, and Will puts himself as far from her as possible, not wanting to intimidate or scare her. Abigail is looking at Will with wide eyes, her lips pressed together and shining with pink gloss as another mare nudges Will curiously.

Alana sighs. "Really, I mean it," she murmurs. "I wonder, Hannibal, have you ever considered loaning him out to stud?"

Hannibal's brows rise again. "Not with any specific intention, no," he replies, and tilts his head. "Is there a reason you're asking?"

"Well," Alana says with another smile, and turns to look at him, "Margot and I were considering expanding our stock. Abigail is so sweet, and I think Will would be a good stallion to breed her with – he's got a good temperament, and, well, aesthetically he's…" She trails off, and Hannibal hums, for he can't disagree.

He looks back to Will, considering him as Molly smiles, nudging her muzzle to Will's shoulder. The other mares have either decided he is no threat to them, or have lost interest, for they have begun to disperse, leaving Molly, Abigail, and Will standing together. Abigail doesn't look nervous, which Hannibal is glad for, but her head is tilted, her eyes bright and openly looking Will up and down, as if assessing him.

His lips purse. "If Abigail likes him, I see no reason not to," he replies, and Alana grins, letting out a crow of delight.

"Well! We'll see how she handles him," she says, and pats Hannibal's arm again. They fall back into silence, ignoring the other guests and ponies; their focus is solely on Molly, and Abigail, and Will.

After a while, Molly's attention is drawn by some of the other mares as they call for her. She parts from Will with one last eager smile, brushing her haunches against his thighs, her tail rubbing over his soft cock, before she trots over to join her friends.

Will tosses his head, snorting gently, and steps back from Abigail. Now that they're comparatively alone, he poses a greater threat to her. She tilts her head further, long hair falling down her exposed shoulders, and lets out a quiet, sweet whinny.

Will pauses, eyes her. Abigail steps forward, head lowered, neck stretched out, and takes a quick inhale. Then, when Will doesn't move, she steps closer still, and nudges her nose against his shoulder, where the bruise is.

Will huffs, and rolls his eyes, jerking his chin towards Randall. She grins at him, and Will smiles back. Lifts a foreleg and brushes his gloved hand down one of her wrist cuffs.

She tilts her head, looking up at him, and Will stiffens again, pulling back with a soft sound of apology, only to stop when she reaches for him and shakes her head. She smiles sweetly up at him – she is so much smaller than him, dainty and lithe – and lifts to her toes to rub her muzzle against Will's jaw, between the straps of his halter.

Will's lashes lower, and he lets out a soft rumble, turning his head down so she can lip at his hair, her hands on his chest, splaying out wide. Will cups her elbows, shoulders rolling and flexing, and lets her press close to him, rubbing her bare thigh between his legs, her hips listing from side to side in an eager, provocative dance.

Alana grins. "I think she likes him."

Hannibal smiles, proud that Will was able to win her affection so easily, simply by being himself. "Yes," he purrs. "Is she in season?" For there's no mistaking the way Will is now openly nuzzling her neck, his thighs and back twitching as she continues to rub against him.

"She is, as a matter of fact," Alana replies with a wink, when Hannibal looks at her. He smiles, and puts his attention back on the ponies, watches Abigail pull her lips back and scratch her teeth along Will's collarbone, like wild animals would do to each other as a gesture of friendship and affection.

"I would hate to rob you of your own party," he says, but if they don't stop them now, Will might mount Abigail in the open field, and there are much better ways to ensure a mare gets pregnant when mounted.

Alana dismisses that with a wave of her hand. "I told Margot if Abigail responded well to Will, this might happen." Hannibal nods, and watches Will as he shivers, his cock hardening and rutting between Abigail's pale thighs. She whines weakly, pawing at his shoulders as his hands slide to her waist, gripping tight to keep her still.

"Will!" he calls, and Will freezes immediately, pulling away from her, his attention snapping to Hannibal. Hannibal smiles, wanting to make sure Will knows he's not being chastised or punished – it would hardly be reasonable, after all, to punish a stallion for wanting to mount an eager, in-season mare. "Come here, darling."

Will tosses his head, gives Abigail one last nuzzle, and then trots over to Hannibal, putting his cheek in Hannibal's outstretched hand. "Don't worry, darling, you'll see her again in just a moment."

Will's eyes flash, his head tilting in intrigue.

Hannibal clips the lead rein to his collar, opens the gate, and leads him out. They pass through the gathered crowd of the Verger friends, and Hannibal sees Alana talking with Margot, sees Margot's eyes brighten with happiness, and she claps her hands together and kisses her wife. She nods, eagerly, and Alana parts from her with one more kiss, nods to Hannibal, and then goes to the paddock to fetch Abigail.

Hannibal can smell the filly on Will; sweet perfume that reminds him of wildflowers growing in open fields, and the very soft traces of her slick – Will apparently got far enough with her to make her wet. He smiles to himself, and leads Will, not back to his stall, but behind the stables, where there is a single, hollowed-out barn. A lean-to, with only three walls. Inside it, a place to tie a pony, and a waist-high bar over which to mount a mare.

Will's nostrils flare, and he rumbles curiously, as Hannibal leads him towards it. He ties the lead rein through a ring at the side of the lean-to, and Will lets out another soft noise, fingers curling at his sides, shifting restlessly in place as he eyes the bench.

His gaze sharpens, when Alana appears, leading Abigail behind her. Will lifts his chin, and their eyes meet, and Abigail gives him a sweet, eager smile, ducking her head and lowering her lashes in a seductive display.

Alana smiles, pulling Abigail's mane away from her neck and shoulders, exposing more of her pale skin, and leads her over to the breeding bench. She ties Abigail's lead to the ring on the other side of the bench, and fastens another strip of leather from her collar to between her feet, where there are two leather cuffs, which she wraps around Abigail's ankles. It is good practice to hobble a broodmare when pairing them with a stallion in a situation like this, so she doesn't spook or kick.

Will's shoulders tense, flex, roll up, as he stares at Abigail openly. She settles her hips against the thickly-padded leather bench, bends down as Alana cinches the hobble tighter, so she can't move, and her tail is raised high, her legs spread just enough that both Will and Hannibal can see her pink, slick flesh.

Will growls, the sound neither horse nor human.

He moves towards her, stopping short when the lead rein securing him to the wall pulls tight, keeping him in place. He lets out another soft, impatient noise, and looks to Hannibal in question.

Hannibal smiles, and takes Will by the hair, turning his attention to him, and drops his free hand to wrap around Will's cock as it starts to harden again – he'd gone soft while being led here, distracted when not in the immediate vicinity of a willing mare, but he responds eagerly to Hannibal's touch, shivering, lips parting around a ragged gasp as Hannibal touches him, bringing him back to hardness.

He puts his lips to Will's ear, breathing in the scent of grass and outside summer air that clings to Will's hair. "She's all yours, darling," he purrs.

Will shivers, touches his muzzle to Hannibal's cheek. Does not bite, but licks, and trembles when Hannibal releases him and unties his lead from the ring in the wall. He keeps the rein tight, making sure Will doesn't prance away from him, and Will follows, flushing finely when Alana gives him a warm smile. She is standing by Abigail's head, petting over her thick mane as Abigail shivers, parting her thighs as much as she can.

Hannibal leads Will to stand behind her, and with one hand, he brushes Abigail's feathers from her haunches, baring her slick opening to Will's greedy gaze. Will gasps at the sight of her, his cock twitching, his hands coming forward to gently rest on her hips. Hannibal slips a finger between where she's warm and pink, pleased to find her slick and eager, pressing back with a quiet moan.

He lifts his finger to Will's mouth. Lets him smell her. Lets him taste her.

Will's eyes are black, now, his exposed cheeks red to match the flush of desire on his chest. He lifts his upper lip, leans down and pushes his muzzle between her thighs, tongue snaking out to lick into her eagerly.

Abigail moans loudly, presses her hands to the floor and arches back, showing her eagerness. "She really does like him," Hannibal notes, keeping a tight hold of Will's lead so that he doesn't mount her before she's ready.

Alana nods. "I'll be honest – even though I'm happy with it, I'm surprised. She's never been friendly with any male horses before."

Will groans at that; a soft, pleased sound, and sucks loudly at her flesh, tongue flattening broad and wide to lick down until he finds her clitoris. Abigail shrieks at the sensation, clearly sensitive to the touch, and Hannibal smiles when Will's hands tighten, keeping her still as he tastes her. Encouraged by the noises she's making, he keeps licking her, crouching down to his haunches to suck harshly at her clit.

Hannibal smiles, and tugs her tail to the side, giving Will more room. Will growls as she starts to shake, fists his hands loosely in the feathers adoring the bottom of her corset, bending them until the spines snap as she cries out, trembling and weak, and comes onto his tongue.

Will lets out a loud, viscerally-pleased sound as he sinks his tongue into her, drinking down her slick as it gushes out of her, slicking his cheeks, his mouth, the leather on his face. Hannibal tugs on his collar, wraps a hand in Will's hair and hooks his fingers below the strap on the top of his head.

"Good boy," he purrs, as Will straightens, breathing hard, his eyes on Abigail's heaving shoulders. Will growls, his eyes bright and burning with desire, a thick drop of precum dripping from his hard cock and onto the concrete floor. There's a small mat below the bench, on which Abigail is standing, protecting her feet.

Abigail whimpers, arching to her toes, and cants her hips back in offering.

Will lunges for her, sliding his hooves up to grip her flanks as stallions mount mares in the wild, his body flexing powerfully as he tilts his head back, bares his teeth, closes his eyes as he ruts against her red flesh, his cock finding her slick hole, and he pushes into her with a sharp, smooth thrust.

Abigail moans, tossing her head, tilting her cheek up as Will mounts her, big enough that he can cover her easily. Hannibal lets the lead rein go slack enough that he can, and Will nuzzles her red cheek, panting heavily, trembling with restraint – he doesn't put his full weight on her, not wanting to crush or smother her, and doesn't move beyond that first thrust, wanting to wait until she's ready.

Abigail shifts her weight impatiently, her tail crushed to Will's stomach, and she turns her head and nips at the leather on his jaw, licks up and over the shine of her own slick on his cheek. Will turns his head, rumbling in a quiet purr, soothing his hands down her sides until he finds her hips again.

He grips tight, soft leather sliding along her pale, smooth skin, and when he begins to move, he mounts her deep and fierce enough that the bench creaks beneath them.

Abigail moans, slim thighs trembling under Will's weight, her eyes closing as Will bites gently at her exposed throat. Alana takes her hands from Abigail's mane, her eyes dark as she watches Will fuck her filly – now a mare, Hannibal supposes. Abigail's sweet perfume is growing thicker with her arousal, her inner thighs shining with slick, the sound of Will sinking into her so loud and wet as he holds her still and mounts her.

Abigail's weight shifts, her hands turning to fists on the floor, her body heaving as Will finds a good angle inside her, keeps her on her toes and lifted up so that his cock fills her as deep and thoroughly as he can. Will grunts, shuddering when Abigail goes tense again, Will dragging another orgasm from her as he mouths at her neck and fucks her full.

Her stomach clenches, sinks in, her mane and thighs slick with sweat as Will growls, slides his forelegs back up until he can wrap them around her shoulders, flattening his hands over the mesh until he touches her leather cuffs. He thoroughly covers her, so much bigger and stronger than she is, and Hannibal cannot help that think if he manages to sire a foal half as lovely as this sight, it will be a resounding success.

Abigail moans weakly, collapsing with another shiver as she finishes her second orgasm, her eyes glazed and black, cheeks red, head falling limply, face hidden behind her hair. Will smiles, proud to have pleased her, and slows his pace.

Hannibal circles behind him, knowing from the twitch of Will's thighs and the softness of his purr that he's close. He cups his hand beneath Will's tail, thumb sliding through the sweat-slick, smooth place between his ass cheeks, and presses down just behind Will's balls, urging him onward.

Will groans, tilting his head up and back, clenching his jaw. He thrusts in and out of her a few more times, but understands Hannibal's unspoken order, always in tune with his master. He presses deep into her, until Abigail moans and shivers with pleasure, clenching up around him, and Hannibal's smile widens as he watches Will's balls tighten and draw up. He cups them, massaging gently as Will comes, flooding her with his seed, and touches him through it to make sure Will empties all that he can into her, ensuring the highest probability of breeding her.

Will shudders, going lax, and jerks his hips back, spent cock slipping from her, a thick trail of seed following along behind. Alana is prepared, of course, and as Hannibal gathers Will up and makes him step away, she goes behind Abigail with a plug, and slips it inside her, attaching a thick leather chastity belt around her hips and between her legs so that it won't fall out.

Will is trembling finely, twitching with aftershocks, his breath coming heavy between his parted lips as he stares at Abigail. Alana undoes the cuffs from around Abigail's ankles, detaches the hobble from her neck, and lets her stand. She rubs gently at Abigail's hips, and over her shoulders, her eyes focused on her filly's face to make sure Abigail is alright and not in any distress.

Will rumbles quietly, and Abigail looks at him, her eyes dark and her entire demeanor supremely satisfied. Will smiles, and Hannibal lets his rein slack enough that he can go to her, nuzzling her neck as she purrs and shows her throat, petting down his sweaty flanks. Even though she's in chastity now, and Will is spent, she turns and ruts her haunches against him, eager already for a second round.

Will swallows, lets out a sound impatient and wanton, and Hannibal knows he would mount her again if he could. He settles, instead, for nuzzling her sweaty hair, lipping at her cheek, and grins when she smiles up at him.

"That was wonderful, Hannibal, thank you for so graciously loaning Will to me," Alana says, and pets Will's hair with a fond smile. Will snorts, heavily, his lashes drooping as he puts his cheek into her hand, his shoulders falling in satisfaction at the indirect praise.

Hannibal smiles, and clicks his tongue, calling Will back to him. Will puts his forehead on Hannibal's shoulder, shivering as Hannibal pets down his warm, sweaty back. "Would you like to keep him for the night? I intended to take him home after the party, but if you'd like to hold onto him a while longer…"

Alana smiles, and shakes her head. She unties Abigail's lead from the wall and pulls her close, brushing a hand gently through her long, curling hair. "I think they both need to rest," she says, and Will blows out a breath against Hannibal's neck as though in agreement. "If she doesn't get pregnant this month, we can try again the next one."

Will shivers against Hannibal, arches close. Hannibal smiles, and nods, and together they lead their ponies out of the lean-to, and Hannibal is warm and pleased to see Will, still, reaching out to Abigail, giving her gentle nuzzles and soft touches to make sure she's alright. Each one is met with a brilliant smile from her, and she whinnies softly at him, nudging their muzzles together, noses and foreheads brushing as they are led back to the stables.

Alana takes Abigail to the private stalls, where Margot and Alana keep their horses, and Hannibal leads Will back to his stall, closing the door behind them. He unhooks Will's lead rein, then his halter, and Will tosses his head once he's free, stretching his jaw out in a wide yawn. Hannibal undoes his tail and sets it on the bench with the rest of the gear, and turns back to regard him.

Will has gone to the water trough, knelt down, and cups his hands in the water, raising it to his mouth to drink. Hannibal lets him, for a while, and smiles when Will looks up at him and gives a soft, happy rumble of greeting.

"Would you like to stay here, darling, or come home with me?"

Will presses his lips together. His eyes flash to the pallet, to Hannibal, to the stall door. He stands, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head like a dog ridding itself of water, or a horse of dust. They both know what Hannibal is really asking:

Would Will rather remain here, and be an animal, or come home, and be a man?

Will clears his throat roughly, brushing the back of his wrist over his slick mouth, absently licking Abigail's taste from his skin. Then, he smiles, and walks over to Hannibal, and presses his hands to Hannibal's chest.

He leans in, and touches their noses together. Hannibal can smell Abigail on Will, and it's not unpleasant when combined with the recent memory of Will making her come, of breeding her at Hannibal's command. He grips Will's hips, thumbs sitting in the little lines dug into his skin from the belt.

Will swallows, lashes low over his dark eyes, and murmurs, "Take me home."

Hannibal nods, and reaches down, pulling the gloves from Will's hands. His fingers flex, and he presses his knuckles to his opposite palms, cracking them, stretches out his thumbs and shivers as his eyes clear, and sharpen. Hannibal returns Will's gear to the closet, and takes out a set of sweatpants and a thin, blue t-shirt, bringing them back to Will to put on.

Will sighs, running his hands through his hair, and raises his arms above his head in a long, thorough stretch. Being a pony is not without its physical aches; when Hannibal gets him home, he will rub Will down, and bathe him, gently lulling him back to his human brain.

They walk out together, and Hannibal leads Will to his car – even without his halter and rein, Will always walks a half-step behind him, head low so he can nuzzle and nip Hannibal's shoulder as they head to the car. Hannibal pauses, and takes Will in his arms, pressing him against the passenger-side door.

He cups Will's face, and kisses him deeply. He can taste Abigail's slick on Will's tongue – beneath that, though, is Will himself, and Will moans, arching against him. He grips Hannibal's shoulders and lets out a sweet, needy sound.

"You behaved wonderfully, Will," Hannibal says. "You always do."

Will smiles at him widely, flushed with pleasure as he always does when Hannibal shows him how proud he is. "I like her," he says, pressing his lips together, eyes darting briefly over Hannibal's shoulder, towards the stables. "Can we come visit again?"

"Of course, my love," Hannibal replies, smiling widely. "But for now, I think I'd rather keep you all to myself."

Will smiles at him, sweet and soft with affection, and kisses Hannibal in a way he can't when he's an animal. He is shivering, eager as ever, when Hannibal pulls back from him, places one last kiss on Will's red cheek, and they both get into the car, and head home.


End file.
